


Remembered Identity

by literaryoblivion



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Episode Related, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Post-Episode: s04e05 I.E.D., Season/Series 04, Sexual Content, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Stripping, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-10 02:07:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2006949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryoblivion/pseuds/literaryoblivion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek always knew that the Sheriff’s new deputy looked familiar, but he could never place him. He knew he’d seen that face before, those eyes, those lips, that smile, but with all the crap he’s been through the last few years, smiles and faces tend to blur together or become bloody and vacant. It doesn’t help that he only knows him as Deputy Parrish and only ever sees him in his uniform.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remembered Identity

**Author's Note:**

> Mainly, [these pictures](http://attoliancrown.tumblr.com/post/92486871656/kindaskimpy-x)(nsfw-ish) are to blame, plus the episode this week, which lead to [this tweet and Twitter thread](https://twitter.com/lit_oblivion/status/491454151231299584). So yeah, enjoy! :)
> 
> Thanks to [Carrie](http://bleep0bleep.tumblr.com) for the quick beta at 1 in the morning. :D
> 
> Speaking of... it's almost 2am now, so if I should tag for something and didn't, please let me know. :)

Derek always knew that the Sheriff’s new deputy looked familiar, but he could never place him. He knew he’d seen that face before, those eyes, those lips, that smile, but with all the crap he’s been through the last few years, smiles and faces tend to blur together or become bloody and vacant. It doesn’t help that he only knows him as Deputy Parrish and only ever sees him in his uniform.

So when he gets a look at the second list Lydia cracked and sees the first name of Deputy Parrish on the list, it all comes flooding back to him. He knows exactly where he’s seen him before and why he’s on the list. No wonder he could never remember before. It’s because when he had known him, he had significantly less clothing and went by Jailbait Jordan and answered to various other nicknames that make Derek’s ears turn red.

Parrish is on the list not because he’s a supernatural creature, per say, but because he’s well acquainted with the supernatural world and just how tight to squeeze or hard to suck or what to say or smell like or how to move to really get a werewolf going. The more Derek thinks about it and remembers all those times he went to the werewolf-only strip club, the hotter he gets and he feels like he’s going to suffocate.

“Dude, Derek, are you okay?” Stiles asks.

Derek waves him off. “I’m fine. Just… I need some air.” He stands back from the computer on the Sheriff’s desk and moves to the door. “Have your dad look up who those other people are we don’t know. See if we can track them down, warn them or something.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, “Duh. Already did that. He’s working on it. But… what about Parrish? What are we going to do about him? What the hell is he?”

“He’s not… anything. It’s cause he knows… things.”

The teen gives him a deadpan look. “He knows things. Really? Like what?”

“Same things you know. He knows about me, werewolves, hunters, you know.”

“Wait he knows about you? You know him? How the hell do you know him?”

Derek lets out a frustrated grunt. “I don’t know if he knows about me specifically. I don’t think he even remembers me. I didn’t remember him until just now. It’s… complicated.”

Stiles is still looking at him flatly, like he’s expecting Derek to say something else, explain why it’s so complicated. He’s not.

“I’ll take care of Parrish.” Before Stiles can say something he adds, “I mean talk to him. Give me his address. He’s not on duty now, right?”

“No. Here,” Stiles hands him a slip of paper with an address on it. “Do you… need someone to go with you? Maybe you shouldn’t go alone. I can come--”

“No. It’s fine. He knows me now, we’ve worked with your dad on a few things. We’ll be fine. He’s not dangerous, and I can handle it if something happens while I’m there.”

Stiles bites his bottom lip. “Uh ok. Well, call if you need backup or something. Like seriously, dude, you better call me or Scott or somebody if you’re even suspicious about something. I know you won’t tell me, but you don’t seem like you’re back to your full strength.”

Derek frowns because Stiles is right, he’s not at full strength. He doesn’t think he’ll have to worry about it just yet, but soon. Stiles folds his arms, his stance expectant, waiting for Derek to promise he’ll call before he’ll let him leave.

“Fine,” Derek mutters. “I’ll call.”

Stiles gives him a firm nod before Derek leaves to go to the address Stiles gave him.

When he pulls up to the address, a small house near the outskirts of town, Derek gets out of his car and approaches the house slowly. He hasn’t lost all his senses just yet, but they’re fading, he can tell. From what he has though, he doesn’t suspect anything dangerous lurking around. He can hear a steady, calm heartbeat when he gets closer to the door, and the sound of a television.

He knocks, and while he waits, he suddenly gets nervous at what he might find when the door opens. He’s known Deputy Parrish for only a few weeks, and while he remembers Jailhouse Jordan with striking clarity, Parrish most likely won’t remember Derek and most likely won’t want to remember his past.

Finally the door opens, and Parrish is in jeans and a worn T-shirt, his hair a little flat on one side.

“Oh, hey, Derek. What are… How do you know where I live?” His voice is rough, like he just woke up. By the looks of things, he probably did.

“Uh, the Sheriff gave me your address. There’s--”

“Is there something wrong? Should I go get my weapon?”

“No. Not yet?” Derek sighs. “Look, can I come in?”

Parrish narrows his eyes suspiciously but nods, opens the door wider to allow Derek to step in. The house is small, lived in, homier than Derek’s loft that’s for sure. There’s a few pictures hanging on the walls, and the television is still on, though it’s on mute.

“You want anything to eat? Drink?” Parrish asks, rubbing his eyes and face while he walks further into his house, Derek trailing behind.

“Uh, no. Thank you.”

“So,” Parrish says, grabbing the remote from the armrest of his couch to turn the TV off. “Take a seat. What is it you want to talk to me about?” He gestures with his hand at the couch in front of him, and Derek sits on the edge. He doesn’t speak until Parrish is sitting in the armchair across from him.

“This may be an uncomfortable topic, but it’s a matter of life or death,” Derek starts.

Parrish’s eyes widen and he sits up, nearing the edge of his seat. “Who’s?”

“Yours. Well… mine too actually.” Derek looks down at his hands, dangling in the space between his legs with his elbows resting on his knees. He has no idea how to even broach the topic, how to tell Parrish, Jordan, that he knows who he is.. was. “Deputy… I… I know who you are.”

Parrish looks confused, his brow furrowed.

Derek continues, “Who you were. Before… before you became a deputy?”

“In the army?”

“Uh, no, it was….” Derek pauses. He’s actually not sure whether or not Jordan stripped his way through police academy or did a stint on the poles before he straightened up to strip wires from bombs instead of the clothes off his back. Surely, it was before the army if his nickname was to be believed. “It was before? I think?” He sighs again, he’s just going to come out and say it. “Wolf Den ring a bell?”

The deputy’s mouth falls open, his eyes wide with shock. “You? So you’re a…”

“Werewolf? Yes.”

Parrish shakes his head, lets it fall into his hands. “Wow…. Wow.” Then, he laughs, mirthless. “I never thought I’d meet someone that knew me back then.”

“I’m sorry if it’s not something that you want to discuss, but I think because of your… past, your knowledge about certain things, you’re in danger.”

“Always knew it’d come back to bite me in the ass. Never thought it’d be literal though…. How do you know all this?”

“Someone put out a hit list… your name is on it. So is mine, actually, and a bunch of other supernatural creatures in Beacon County. It’s not safe for you, for any of us until we figure out who wants us dead.”

Parrish bites his lip, then nods, resignedly. “At least I’m not alone here.” He gives Derek a small smile, and Derek tries his best to return it, but all he can manage is to lift one side of his lips in what he hopes is an encouraging way. Parrish lets out a long breath from his mouth and stands from his seat.

“I’m going to need a beer. You sure you don’t want anything?” Parrish asks, turning to walk  into the kitchen.

Derek shakes his head. “I should probably go. I came to warn you.”

“Uh, you don’t have to go? I mean, I kind of would like you to stay actually? Explain to me about this list and maybe some of the weird crap I saw a few months ago because I get the feeling you know what the ninjas really were. Can you? Stay, I mean?”

Derek doesn’t really have anywhere he needs to be, and it’s probably better for the both of them to be together rather than each of them be alone. Derek gets the feeling Parrish knows more than he’s letting on, that his knowledge isn’t the only thing that put Parrish on that list, but the only way to find out is to talk to him.

“Sure. I can stay,” Derek finally says, leaning back into the couch.

“Great,” Parrish calls from the kitchen. The next instance he’s striding back into the living room, two beers in hand. He hands one over to Derek who stares at it. “Look, I know it does nothing for you, but I don’t like drinking alone. Humor me?”

Derek shrugs, takes the beer from Parrish’s outstretched hand, and pops it open, taking a sip while Parrish sits back in his chair. They both take a few moments to sip their drinks in silence before Parrish finally leans forward and says,

“Start talking.”

~

It’s late now, several hours after Derek first arrived. They haven’t bothered to turn on a light, so the only thing illuminating the room is the half moon glowing through the windows of the living room. Derek and Parrish are both on their third or fourth beer, they might have lost count, and an hour ago they had stuffed themselves full with the leftover lasagna Parrish had made the night before.

Derek’s finished filling the deputy in on this dead pool and what all the supernatural shitshow that is Beacon Hills entails. He’s told him all he knows about the Oni, why they came, what they wanted, who was controlling them. Some of it Parrish had already guessed, some, like the Oni, he had no idea about. Derek knows that he and Parrish are only mere acquaintances, but some innate feeling in his gut tells Derek that he can trust him with this information.

After some time they had moved on to other topics, sports, TV, movies. There’s a lull in the conversation, a nice quiet space where Derek is content and relaxed. It’s then that Parrish turns to him, scooting forward in his chair to really look at Derek.

“So, you knew me when I was Jailbait Jordan, huh?” Derek’s ears turn red, and when he looks up, he can see Parrish--Jordan, he has to mentally correct, keeping the two personas separate in his mind won’t do him any good now--smirk, like he knows exactly what Derek’s picturing.

“I… uh, yeah. I won’t say anything to anyone though. I’m sure you won’t want that getting out.”

“That’d be good, yeah. Thanks. You know, I don’t mind you knowing though. I have to ask though… were you a frequent visitor?”

Derek’s face reddens more, and he coughs to give himself time to answer. “I… I came enough to remember you and make the connection.”

Jordan opens his mouth on an “ahh,” nodding his understanding. “So you weren’t one of my private clients? You came to see the show and that’s all?”

Derek nods, not trusting himself to open his mouth to reply because he never thought he could be one of Jordan’s clients. At the time he was pretty much jailbait himself, and he just barely got into the club without someone threatening to throw him out or asking him if he snuck in every twenty minutes. But he’d heard plenty about what Jordan did with his private VIP appointments. The nights he was on stage were always jam-packed, and Derek knew to come early if he wanted to snag a spot anywhere close enough to see anything.

The other wolves around him would jeer or brag about how they were on the schedule with Jordan, or how they had booked an hour with him the week before and it was the best hour of their life, that it was worth every penny, that if they could afford to schedule him every week or even every day they would. He’d hear them whisper about what they’d like to do to him when he came out on stage, the bolder ones would yell it, cheer him on to bare everything to the crowd.

Jordan would always take his time though, ignore the cat calls and move to the music. He looked like he knew full well what he was doing, how he had every werewolf in the room by the balls and could make them do anything he wanted. Derek would go home, lock himself in the bathroom and jerk-off for hours, imagine what it’d be like to get a private room with Jordan, picture Jordan paying attention to only him, to his wants, his desires.

“Uh yeah, just the show,” Derek answers. “I heard you were booked up weeks in advance and it was too much for my budget. I’m sure it was worth it though.”

Jordan sets his empty beer can on the coffee table in front of him, leans forward. “How old were you then?”

“Eighteen, nineteen? I barely made it in the club by the skin of my teeth, luckily I looked older, and I never drank so they didn’t mind.”

Jordan nods and hums to himself. He reaches forward and puts a hand on Derek’s knee, rubs his thumb back and forth against it before moving his hand up his leg a few inches. “I could give you a private show now if you want? Show you what you missed out on. Free of charge, of course.” He winks before moving his hand even higher on Derek’s thigh, his thumb rubbing along the inseam of his jeans.

“I… you don’t have to. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable…”

“Pfft, I’m not uncomfortable, Derek. I’m offering… If I didn’t want to do it, I wouldn’t have offered.”

“I…” Derek starts, but Jordan is out of his chair, his other hand resting on Derek’s other leg.

“I’m a bit rusty, but I’ve still got it,” he whispers, leaning over so he’s hovering above Derek on the couch.

Derek opens his mouth to respond, but he can’t. He’s too distracted by Jordan’s mouth so close to his, the heat of his hands on his legs, and the tingling from where Jordan keeps rubbing his thumb along the inside of his thigh, inching closer and closer to his crotch the more he leans forward.

Jordan smiles. “Is that a yes, Derek?”

Slowly, Derek nods twice, and Jordan’s smile grows. “That’s what I thought.” He tilts his head and comes forward. Derek thinks he’s going to kiss his lips, but he doesn’t. Instead Jordan kisses his neck, right above his pulse, and it makes Derek shiver. Jordan kisses his neck again, moving up to press kisses all the way up to his ear. He sucks on the lobe, and Derek lets out a whimper when he nibbles on it. Derek can feel his claws just on the edge of his skin, and he never knew he could get like that already, so soon, and Jordan hasn’t even kissed him on the lips yet.

Jordan pulls back from Derek’s ear, enough to look him in the eyes. “Usually, I’d know already what you like if you were my client, so I’ll just have to guess this time. If I do something you don’t like, tell me.”

“Alright.”

“Good. Now…” Jordan climbs into Derek’s lap, his knees pressed into the back of the couch on either side of Derek’s hips. He wraps his arms around Derek’s neck, and Derek instinctively moves his hands to rest them on Jordan’s hips. “Where were we?” He grins, wiggles his butt a little in Derek’s lap before he’s decided he’s comfortable.

He leans forward again, kissing up the other side of Derek’s neck to his other ear. He takes his time sucking on the lobe of that one, grazing his teeth along the edge of it. He runs his fingers through Derek’s hair at the back of his neck and starts kissing along Derek’s jawline. When he gets close to Derek’s mouth, Derek tries to turn to catch his lips with his own, but Jordan pulls back.

“Nu uh huh,” he teases, “not yet.”

“Parrish,” Derek groans out. He’s been wanting to feel the other man’s lips against his own for years, and he’s tired of waiting.

“It’s Jordan. Call me Jordan,” he adds in a whisper, “please.”

“Jordan,” Derek repeats, and the deputy smiles and nods. He pecks Derek on the cheek, like it’s a reward, and gets up off the couch. Derek frowns and opens his mouth to protest, but quickly realizes why Jordan got up.

Jordan is standing in front of Derek, between his spread legs, facing away from him, so that all Derek can see is his ass and his backside as he slowly lifts his shirt up and over his head. He moves his hips side to side as he does so, the muscles tensing and relaxing as he shifts. Derek’s mouth has gone dry at the sight, and he can feel his pants getting tighter than they had been before.

Once his shirt is completely off, Jordan looks over his shoulder in this coy, teasing way, and it makes Derek hot, his heart beat just a little bit faster. Rocking his hips as he does, Jordan turns to face Derek. He moves like he’s got music or a beat playing even though the only sounds are their breathing and the fabric of his jeans rubbing against him as he moves. He lifts a hand to the side of his neck, lets it slide down his chest, over his abdomen, and it comes to a stop at the waistband of his jeans, his fingers on the button of his fly. Derek follows it all the way down of course, and his eyes narrow in on Jordan’s fingers as they rub lower over the bulge growing in his pants.

Jordan’s eyes have been closed since he’s turned around, but he opens them to stare directly at Derek while he slowly unbuttons his pants. He takes his time sliding the zipper down, but he doesn’t immediately pull his jeans down. He leaves them open, again rocking his hips from side to side as his hands travel back up to his chest and into his hair.

Derek is overwhelmed, and he can understand why all those werewolves paid so much to get a private show. It was more intimate this way, hotter and sensual. It was less about competing with the other wolves in the room for Jordan’s attention, and more about appreciating what Jordan was offering, putting on display, for you and only you. As he watches Jordan turn back around to face away from him, Derek strips out of his own shirt, almost ripping it he is so eager to have it off.

He moves to unzip his own pants too, but Jordan clears his throat.

“You’re only allowed to do that if you promise not to touch yourself,” he says, not even turning his head to look at Derek when he says it. He waits, his hands on the sides of his hips, his thumbs tucked under the waistband of his jeans, sliding them back and forth, toying with them. He turns his head to look back at Derek, the same coy pose he did earlier, only his face is less teasing and more demanding, firm. “Only I get to touch you.”

Derek takes his hands away from his crotch. Even though he’s aching, needs some relief, he knows that if he’s patient, he’ll be rewarded. “Okay. I won’t.”

“Promise?”

Derek bobs his head furiously. “Promise.”

Jordan grins. “Good boy.” Derek never thought a phrase like that would affect him, but he almost preens at the words. He sits back, trying to keep his hands on the couch while he watches Jordan. He focuses on his hands, his fingers, gradually pulling down his jeans over his hips. His underwear catches on the fabric of his jeans while he’s pulling, and the brief view of Jordan’s bare ass makes his dick twitch.

When his arms are fully extended by his sides, Jordan lets his jeans drop the rest of the way to the ground. He steps out of them, his left foot catching the edge and kicking them to the side of the room. He turns again to face Derek, this time in only his underwear, and he leans forward, his hands on the back of the couch on either side of Derek’s head. Derek looks down, and he can see the tip of Jordan’s cock peeking out of his underwear, leaking just a little. Who knew Jordan could get just as turned on while performing as those watching him? Maybe that’s why he was willing to do so many shows, have so many clients.

“You can’t touch yourself, but you can touch me, if you want,” Jordan says when he notices Derek staring. “In fact, I want you to. Touch me, Derek, please?”

Derek lifts his arms up to wrap around Jordan’s waist as he climbs into Derek’s lap again like he had before. He runs a hand down Jordan’s throat, and chest, like he had done to himself earlier when showing off for Derek. Derek’s hand follows the same path, straying a little to play with his nipples, causing Jordan to hiss and rock his hips up against Derek’s, before he runs the tip of a finger over the head of Jordan’s cock above his waistband.

Jordan bites down on his bottom lip and moans when he does it. Derek toys with the elastic of the underwear’s waistband, wanting to pull it down so he could see Jordan’s full length.

“You can pull them down,” Jordan answers, as if reading his mind. As soon as he hears it, Derek obeys, tugging Jordan’s underwear down, over the swell of his ass, his cock springing free. He tucks them under his balls because he can’t pull them all the way off with how Jordan’s sitting in his lap. He stares in awe at Jordan’s cock, thick and red.

Jordan smiles, puts his lips to Derek’s ear and whispers, “Touch me, Derek.”

He wraps a hand around Jordan’s length and pulls slowly. Jordan lets out a low moan, rocks his hips up slightly, like he’s trying to follow Derek’s hand. Derek’s not sure whether or not to keep stroking Jordan, but he does keep his hand wrapped around the base just in case, his thumb rubbing along the vein on the underside.

“Don’t worry,” Jordan says, “I haven’t forgotten about you.” He reaches down and finishes unbuttoning Derek’s pants, unzips him, and opens his pants and moves his underwear down enough to expose and pull out Derek’s cock. The cool air stings a little when he’s finally free, but it feels so much better to be out and not cramped in his pants. Jordan strokes his hand a few times up and down Derek’s length, and this time Derek moans and bucks his hips.

While he’s still moving his hand up and down, Derek trying his best to mirror the motion with his own hand on Jordan’s cock, Jordan scoots closer, his lips so close to Derek’s that he can feel Jordan’s breath against his lips.

“I think I owe you something,” he says before closing the distance between him and Derek and sealing his lips over Derek’s.

It’s like something breaks loose inside him when Jordan kisses him. He can feel his wolf just on the surface, feels almost like when he’s letting his instincts take over. It’s the feeling he gets right before he’s about to shift, that moment when he is not quite a wolf but not quite a man. He knows he hasn’t lost control, knows that he’s still fully human as he continues to pump his fist along Jordan’s dick. But it’s that feeling, the emotion, and it’s exhilarating. He has no idea how Jordan did that, could even unlock something like that in him, but he did.

He doesn’t even realizing it when his orgasm hits, he’s too high on the buzzing feeling. But he can feel Jordan smiling against his lips and pulling back, bucking up faster into his fist when the feeling slowly dissipates. Derek uses his free hand to pull Jordan in by the neck for another kiss, but that feeling doesn’t happen again. The kiss is good though, pleasant, and it’s only a few moments more before Jordan is spilling across Derek’s hand and stomach.

He sags against Derek’s chest, his forehead resting on Derek’s as their breathing gradually returns to normal. Derek runs a hand up and down Jordan’s back, and Jordan relaxes even more into him, letting his head rest on Derek’s shoulder, his face pressed into the crook of Derek’s neck.

“How… how did you do that?” Derek finally asks when the sweat and come is cooling on them. They should probably clean up before it becomes uncomfortable.

Jordan smiles, his lips curling up against Derek’s skin. Derek knows Jordan knows exactly what he’s asking about, but Jordan keeps quiet, until finally he answers in what Derek think is supposed to be a teasing, joking way,

“Magic.”

Derek, though, might be losing his powers, but he can still hear Jordan’s heart beat, can hear how true that simple word is.

He chuckles because he thinks Jordan wants him to, doesn’t want to let on that he suspects something, that he knows Jordan isn’t lying, that Derek was so wrong about his initial theory about why Jordan’s name is in the dead pool.

There is a reason Jordan is on that list, and it’s not because he has a certain knowledge of the supernatural.

It’s because he, like everyone else, is supernatural too.

The question is…

What?

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi and fangirl with me on [my tumblr](http://literaryoblivion.tumblr.com) or [my twitter](http://twitter.com/lit_oblivion).


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